


tell me again, why is it i (never can do anything right)

by maridria



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Mental Instability, Photography, as happy as one can be when trying to recover from the shit that happens to them in this, i'm really not nice to momota or amami sorry gang, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maridria/pseuds/maridria
Summary: they dance in the dark and the light, wrapped in music and fear and pain.-locked in a sadistic man's house, sixteen teenagers try to take care of each other.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97





	tell me again, why is it i (never can do anything right)

**Author's Note:**

> this is really not a nice fic. please heed the tags, guys. there is a lot of triggering content in here, and although this is somewhat of a vent fic for me, it could trigger a reader. be careful and be aware of your own mental health.

they dance in the dark and the light, wrapped in music and fear and pain. they dance even as their feet begin to bleed, even as the mournfully wailing woman that accompanies them fades out for the millionth time. they dance until the Man behind the camera tells them to stop, usually after over twelve hours. and then they get the chance to rest with the others, that is, unless the Man decides he liked their performance more than usual. then, he'll take them into the dark room down the hall, and they'll do what he wants, or else he'll take someone else. they all love each other too much for that.

it's routine now, days and weeks turning into months. none of them know how long it's been. amami has been here the longest; over a year, the others think, but all the rest were taken within days of each other.

he dresses them up the way he likes, like little dolls in their perfect tuxedos and dresses. wipes away the blood and the tears and puts them on a dance floor, usually with a partner, sometimes alone. it's always easier with a partner. someone you can lean into (but not for too long) and cry to after the Man takes you. 

he likes akamatsu and saihara more than the others, they think. he takes them almost every time they go onto the dance floor, and they always return a little emptier, a little less of themselves. sometimes he takes both of them at once. it's always worse then, because then neither one will look at the other for days.

they all guide each other through it all by telling stories; stories of what it was like before, stories of their families, their old friends, their lives. it helps.

they don't know his name, and they probably never will. they just know that his walls are painted white with red stripes, and every time he smiles, it's usually followed by pain.

he doesn't clean them up or dress them again afterwards; they usually can't walk after the dancing, so the others have to carry them into the bathroom and make sure they don't try and slit their wrists with their own teeth. tojo tried that once. they found her bleeding out in the tub, and shinguji's limited medical knowledge was the only reason she pulled through.

then comes the turning point. as like any other time, the Man takes one of them. it's kokichi, this time, only kokichi, and they watch him dance through the one way mirror for hours. his movements get jerkier as time goes on, as his shoes slip on the polished floor.

he falls.

none of them actually see or hear the exact moment when he hits the floor; they all learn of it the second hoshi shouts. in an instant, all fifteen of them are pressed up against the glass, watching his tiny form shudder in the spotlight.

the Man stomps out into the room. he grabs kokichi by the hair. yonaga screams.

the woman in the song wails.

-

they don't see kokichi or the Man for three days afterwards.

when the Man kicks the door open, gokuhara's on watch. he wakes the others within a few moments, each of them having trained themselves how to sleep ever so lightly. almost immediately, kiibo starts to cry.

the Man dumps kokichi unceremoniously on the ground, and the most frightening part is that he doesn't make a sound. he lies there, eyes open but unseeing, breaths coming short and gasping.

when they were first made to dance, they would usually fall or refuse. only amami complied every time, body trained to withstand the hours of exhaustion, but the rest would collapse after only a fraction of the time. the Man would take them into the dark room every time they failed, and so they taught themselves how to keep going. chabashira was the first to make it through all twelve-plus hours. they cheered for her.

kokichi was never the best at pacing himself, but then again, the Man never hurt them this badly in the beginning. they wonder if it's because none of them have fallen for a while, so the Man was annoyed with the disruption.

shirogane wordlessly picks up his battered body and makes her way to the bathroom. the slow dripping of his blood on the floor seems to drill itself into their skulls.

kiibo is still crying as the Man walks further into the room, looking at all of them. harukawa clamps a hand over his mouth, but he still shakes and shakes and shakes.

the Man looks down at him, then his eyes flick to harukawa.

momota, always impulsive and _so, so stupid,_ breaks the silence. "why are you doing this?"

they all know the Man doesn't like it when they speak. he prefers them to be silent, unless they're in the dark room.

the Man is already angry. something about momota's simple rebellion sets him off, and he's on him in an instant.

yumeno screams as the two tumble and scratch and attack each other. the Man's stronger, sure, but although momota's skinny as all hell, he's got determination. he claws at the Man's face and hands and throat with a sort of wild fury.

but of course, the Man wins, as he always does. his thick hands find their way to momota's neck.

the Man lets go before he stops breathing, but it's still enough to rattle all of them down to their bones. they watch him drag momota away with a sort of resigned exhaustion.

then he does something they don't expect. the spotlight in the dancing room flashes on, and the woman begins to wail. the Man appears, pulling momota with him. he's awake again, though his eyes are only half-open and he looks more asleep than anything else.

the Man begins to sway with the music, holding momota close like he's a treasured dance partner rather than a boy who he's been keeping prisoner. momota stumbles along with him, barely keeping up. there's a gash on his forehead, and blood is dripping down his face ever-so-slowly.

the Man starts to take his pants off.

iruma's crying now, too, and she and kiibo are the first to turn away. the Man has never hurt any of them in this way outside the dark room; it's a special dance reserved for only within its striped walls. but now he's doing it so publicly, pulling momota's jacket from his shoulders almost gently, and they don't know what to believe anymore.

the rest turn away before the Man strips too.

-

kokichi is barely coherent when shirogane leads him out of the bathroom; he's a mess, hands tangled in his wet hair and tears running their well-worn tracks down his face. he starts to turn towards the noises coming past the window, but tojo steers him away, her face dangerously blank. akamatsu speaks to him in soft tones, trying to pull him back from the edge of insanity.

oh, how easily things fall apart, is all she can think as she listens to kokichi's stuttering words and momota's sobs and the Man's moans. she hears a few of the Man's words here and there, things like "good boy" and similar praise, and she cringes. wordlessly, yonaga takes her hand and leads her to the bathroom, where a couple of others are already taking refuge within its slightly more soundproof walls. saihara takes her place in the same moment.

it's a long time before momota's cries taper off, and by then they're all crammed into the bathroom. some of them are sitting in the tub, some just on the floor, but all of them have their hands over their ears. chabashira is the first to notice the silence, and she is the first to rise slowly.

the others notice moments later, and soon they're all back in the main room.

momota is gone, but his jacket and shoes and blood are still on the floor, a stark contrast to the pale color. no one says anything for a long time.

the Man tosses him onto the floor minutes later, and harukawa helps him to the tub.

-

they all should be used to it by now, the dancing and the dark room and the pain, but it still hurts all the same. the Man begins to take momota more, and he shatters in harukawa's arms every time he returns. other than that, it's all routine. it's all routine.

except he starts taking pictures of them in the dark room, and it gets worse.

they soon find that he pulls out a camera before, during, or after he hurts them. the flash is new, and unexpected, and unwanted. he puts the pictures up as he takes them, all over the striped walls, and when they're taken, all they see is the others. iruma on her knees, shinguji or harukawa or shirogane facedown, kiibo cringing away from his touch.

he videotapes their dances, this they know, and there was a camera in the dark room the first time he took each of them. but he's never taken pictures. somehow, it's worse.

they don't lose hope completely, though. they never really do.

-

an escape plan was bound to happen at some point, and why not now, when they feel like they're about to go mad?

of course, they've tried to escape before, but that was way back in the beginning, when none of them were unified and amami refused to say a word.

now, they have a chance. sure, momota is still too weak to fight and shirogane seems too reluctant, but they've got gokuhara's size and chabashira's aikido skills and harukawa's proficiency with sharp things. so maybe they've got a chance.

the next time the Man storms into the room, grabbing yumeno by the arm this time, they are ready. gokuhara tackles him from behind and chabashira lands a blow on his head that seems to knock him out immediately. and so they continue.

the worst part of the search for the exit is having to go through the dark room. it's in the middle of the hallway, and the rest of the doors must be past it, they assume. when they push the door open, they have to look down at the floor.

it smells of blood and sweat and sex, and if they walk too slowly or look up, they think they can hear each others' screams. begs and pleas and futile struggles have carved themselves into these walls, and now they hang there. just like the photos.

saihara pushes the door on the opposite side of the room open, and they all push through it with a sort of deranged desperation. they need to get out, it's too dark and it's too cold and someone's crying. 

they can't see now, so now they feel along the walls for a doorway or a light switch or a shred of hope. they hurry along like this for a little while, the implicit threat of the Man's return dangling over their heads. he will wake up, and he will find them, and he'll drag them back to the dark room and he'll-

saihara, in the front of the group, lets out a small shout as his fingers brush something on the wall. it feels like a doorframe, and he halts everyone else in the group as he searches for the knob.

it only takes a few seconds. he rattles it and yanks and pushes. 

it's locked.

gokuhara is called forward, and he slams into the door with all his might. there's a loud _crack_ , and it flies open.

and in the same moment, an intense ringing hits their ears. an alarm, of course, they should've expected this.

the Man's going to wake up any minute now. they start to run, almost tripping each other and themselves in the process. they're so close to freedom, so close to seeing their family and friends again -

they hit a wall.

it knocks them dizzy for a moment or two, and they stumble back, shocked by the sudden disruption. then it's panicked hands clawing at the wall, someone's chanting _no, no, no_ like a prayer. they don't have time for this, they have to find the exit, they have to get out of here.

the lights flash on all at once, blinding them. they turn.

the Man is standing on the other side of the near-empty room, rage engraved on his face. _he's going to kill us._ he has a gun.

akamatsu finds the door.

she throws it open and daylight, glorious and fresh daylight, shines in. the Man raises his gun to fire.

akamatsu is the first out, then iruma, then shinguji, and before the Man pulls the trigger, over half of them have escaped. they keep running.

they all jump at the sudden explosion of noise when it goes off. except hoshi, halfway out the door, who falls almost gracefully.

everyone left inside is frozen. the gunshot, the sudden loss of hope, it's all piling on them all at once. there's only six of them still standing inside. amami, yonaga, tojo, momota, saihara, shirogane.

the Man speaks, and it takes them a few moments to worm through their terror and realize he's speaking to amami. "why?"

amami just stares at him, eyes wide and almost glassy. he starts to shake.

"i've cared for you for a year and a half. i kept you and killed all the others, and this is how you repay me?" he takes a step forward, and amami whimpers. all the others flinch. shirogane slowly edges herself towards the door.

"you told me you loved me, in those two weeks that it was just us. was it all a lie?" he's still stepping forwards. he's almost halfway across the room. shirogane scoops up hoshi's shuddering body and runs. the Man doesn't seem to care, the entirety of his focus on amami.

and it's all true, everything he's saying. that's the worst part of it all. amami remembers the Man shushing him and holding him close as he screamed, watching him gun down his friends. he remembers a desperate _i love you,_ wrapped in the hope that maybe he'd stop. he remembers two weeks alone with the Man. he had wanted to die every single one of those days.

he wonders for a brief moment if there ever was any chance of the Man letting him go; not the others, just amami, because he's been here the longest. the Man has a strange and awful and unwanted attachment to him. he knows it by the ways that the Man's hand tangled in his hair, the horrible way he pushed him down on the bed countless times and gently planted kisses on his neck. he knows that the Man loves him.

yonaga is out the door now, and tojo too. the two hold hands as they sprint away.

it's just momota, saihara, and amami now.

the Man is maybe five feet away from amami. his gun is lowered now.

"i- i- i couldn't-" he's stuttering through his words as he pushes them past his teeth, staring at the Man who's held him prisoner for over a year. he can't move, he knows he won't move no matter how hard he tries.

"leave him alone," whispers saihara, a futile plea. he already knows that there's no way amami is getting out of here without a fight, without a struggle, without one of them dying.

momota is halfway to the door, but now the Man's crazed gaze is no longer focused on amami. it flicks to the tallest boy, and he flinches.

"kai-to," the Man says, tauntingly. "i never knew how pretty your body was until you fought back that day. you were always just a nuisance until then. i didn't expect it."

a shudder runs through momota's body, but his eyes meet saihara's, and he understands that he's the distraction now. saihara gently pulls amami away from the Man on the other side, circling around him and towards the door.

"i was going to kill you," the Man continues. "i didn't like the way you danced for me, didn't like how you would always talk back. you never begged. i hated that."

saihara sweeps amami to the door, and the Man's eyes snap to them. he lunges.

no one can keep track of exactly what happens next. momota grabs the gun and saihara pushes amami out the door and there's a gunshot and blood splatters the wall.

"run!" screams saihara a moment later, and amami does. his limbs unfreeze and he takes off.

momota is slipping down the wall, leaving a smear of blood behind him. it's spilling down from his shoulder. the gun is still clutched in his hand, having yanked it from the Man's grip. the Man snarls and grabs saihara by the neck, and throws him backwards.

it's more the shock than anything that's stopping momota from running. he's staring blankly forwards, his hands stinging from the heat of the gunshot where he'd gripped the gun. his shoulder is strangely numb. _that's not a good sign._

saihara's head smashes into the ground and stars explode in his eyes, leaving him prone and defenseless as the Man throws himself at him again. hands wrap around his throat and he has deja vu to when this happened to momota, when he was just the bystander.

"stupid- fucking- whore," the Man snarls, nails digging into his neck. saihara's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, reaching for air that won't come. he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't breathe -

_bang._

the Man slumps against him, an oppressive and unwelcome weight, and when saihara blinks, he's back in the dark room.

it was his first time in it, and that feeling of uneasiness still rested in his gut. it was an unfriendly reminder of the power that his captor had over him. he took in the dim room, its gaudy white-and-red walls seeming to burn brighter in the thin darkness. there was only a bed and another door. other than that, the room was empty.

a million different possibilities were flashing through his head, all of them gruesome and painful, and all of them focused into one when the man told him to get on the bed.

most of the memory has been pushed to the darkest recesses of his mind, and he frantically brings himself back to reality. the liquid oozing onto his torso is blood, he's lying on the floor in a brightly lit room, momota is trying to help him up. he's not there anymore, he's not. he'll never be there again. the Man will never hurt anyone ever again.

they stagger out of the building, the two of them, and the taste of fresh air is better than anything else he's ever felt before.


End file.
